


New Year's Eve

by MJRen



Category: Adam Driver - Fandom, BlacKkKlansman (2018), Logan Lucky (2017)
Genre: Angst, Blow Job, F/M, Fluff, Hand Job, Smut, will update tags and relationships as updated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:41:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27950966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MJRen/pseuds/MJRen
Summary: Various one-shots exploring how you would experience New Year's Eve with the different ADCU characters. Check the chapter titles and summaries for more info pertaining to that specific part.
Relationships: Clyde Logan/Reader, Flip Zimmerman/You
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	1. Fireworks - Clyde Logan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your first New Year’s Eve in Boone County becomes that much more interesting when you run into a handsome stranger, the two of you seeking peace in the same place for two entirely different reasons. Together, you give each other exactly what the other needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: angst, PTSD, anxiety.

The party buzzed with excitement, an obvious anticipation lighting every guest’s face. The year had been so long, and there were only ten minutes until that fresh start we all craved so much. It seemed with each passing second the room would grow in volume and exuberance – conversations loud, couples close, hope sparking in dazed eyes. Bottles were grouped, empty and some tipped over; red cups littered around the floor, growing in amount as the night went on.

And you, self-proclaimed designated driver for the night, were watching it all unfold the entire time. With so little time left, seeing everyone paired with someone to hold when the year ran out, you found yourself overwhelmed and a bit saddened.

Doing a sweep around the room, giving a nod to each of your friends to ensure their safety, you wandered out past the backyard toward the gazebo sitting at the dock’s end. The journey was quiet and cold, a fond chill cleansing your skin, the moon-streaked lake ebbing a melody of peace. There were lights wrapped around the trellis, dim in their warm tone.

A moment was spent taking in the air, becoming still. Face to the sky, arms tight to your chest, you hummed. During the winter months there was no chorus of cicadas to accompany you. No matter, you stepped forward until you could lean out toward the night and focus on the dull crash of water below.

Footsteps startled your eyes toward their direction, a quiet yelp escaping when you set eyes on a man seemingly leaving from where you’d just arrived. He seemed to be in a rush, strides taking him away before you could think much on what to say.

“I’m sorry,” you called after him, turning, his steps stilling. “I really didn’t mean to interrupt. I just needed a breather from the craziness, but I think I’m good now.”

The stranger paused for a moment, his back to you, wind blowing past his hair with the gentle breeze. His shoulders lowered and he turned to you, not stepping any closer. He was tall, a warm face to match the lights above. He was wearing an outfit much better equipped for the weather than yours, arms covered in a jean jacket, pants a darker jean material. Bold of him.

“You just got here. S’alright.” Fog framed his words, a nervous edge to them. He gave a weak smile and a nod before turning back around.

“Hey, wait!” You couldn’t help but feel guilty for scaring him off. He turned back around, not even the slightest bit exasperated. A patient soul. Kind eyes. Good company? He watched you with intent. “I wouldn’t mind the company. Really. Stay.”

Those soft eyes seemed surprised, pinching just slightly to match the flicker of a smile at his cheeks. He was still tense, but after considering you, looking down to a watch outfitting his wrist, he swallowed and made his way to your side. He kept a comfortable distance, his back to the pillar across from you.

“So, what were you doing out here anyway? The dock is usually empty this time of night.”

The stranger crossed his arms to match yours, his face turning out toward the water. “Keepin’ watch. Waitin’. Should be soon.”

“Oh gosh, were you waiting for someone out here? I’ll leave. That’s so awkward, my goodness!”

“No. Not waitin’ on anyone. Just the new year.” He swallowed, looking back to you and gesturing toward the sky. “There’s usually fireworks.”

“Oh! That’s so cool! This is my first year here, so thanks for telling me.” As you spoke, he didn’t seem to match your excitement, something haunting his far-off gaze. Your eyes narrowed, confusion striking through your bright mood. “Don’t you like the fireworks? That’s why you’re out here?”

His left hand, prosthetic you noticed, reached toward his right forearm. He cleared his throat. Something wasn’t right. When he returned from whatever memory he’d wandered to, his face was serious, mouth a hard line. Eyes still soft, tender in the moonlight.

A shiver washed over you, teeth chattering to interrupt whatever he was about to say. He saw, relief finding him in the wake of your apparent distraction.

“Here, take this.” He slid the jacket off his arms and offered it to you, the sleeve of his undershirt lifting so you could see a tattoo – indicative of military service – just below the raised cuff. Realization lifted your brows. He noted this, face falling somewhat before he reached to push the fabric back down.

The jean material was toasty, his body heat sinking through the article and warming your hand before you pulled it over your shoulders. The man went back to leaning against his post, eyes set on the lake. Being here meant more now. A mission to keep him safe.

With time passing his shoulders tensed, determined eyes locked on his watch. His breath was coming faster, getting louder. He needed peace, or at least a distraction.

“What’s your name?”

He said nothing, foot tapping. So instead you offered your name, nearing him. “A girl – Mellie, I think her name was – yeah, she invited me a few weeks ago. Just before Christmas. And I told her I’d check my plans, but turns out I had nothing else going on so I brought a few friends with me and-,”

A distant uproar sounded from the house. Cheers and shouts of joy echoed across the lawn, your heart racing when the stranger’s eyes shut and his jaw flexed. His hands gripped tight to the railing, head tucked to his chest. He was in so much pain, anticipating – no, _dreading_ – what he knew would come.

Something occurred to you in that moment. Maybe stupid and completely off-base – it was midnight. It was a new year. It was New Year’s Day. You were here. So was this stranger, whoever he was. So you did the only thing you could think of.

Slipping a hand under his chin and snaking it to his cheek, you turned his face to yours and pulled down. He was scalding, heat rolling off of him in heavy waves. There was a moment of hesitation on your end, looking at him for a go-ahead, only finding a heart wrenching fear just beyond his eyes. The first _boom_ sounded behind you, his blown pupils shooting toward the bright light.

“Hey,” you soothed, nudging his attention back toward you.

Sliding your hand over his ear, bringing your other to cover the one that remained, you brought his lips to yours and hoped for the best. Fingers fled into his heated tresses, thick and a deep, deep brown. It was all your effort at first, his body stiff against yours before he settled into the interaction. When he did, finally giving into your machinations, you made an even more conscious effort to keep his ears covered and to stroke the skin just behind them.

He loosened up and you took advantage, walking him away from the railing until his knees hit the bench behind him. He lowered himself all while you kept connected, your mouth moving in fervor, the fireworks still blaring in the background. The hair framing his temples was soft under your thumbs, a thin veil of sweat evident under your touch.

“You’re okay,” you hushed between kisses, “you’re okay. It’s okay.”

A hand cupped the back of your neck, stroked at your nape, fingers catching on the hair there. He slowed his mouth and eventually stopped entirely, pressing his forehead to yours. Here you were an anchor, observing how he calmed with each breath he took, keeping your palms in place to guard him from the sounds all too familiar to him.

“Clyde,” he breathed, “M’name’s Clyde.”

Teething at your bottom lip, you pressed your mouth to his again. This time much less adamant, a gentle yearning motivating the movement instead of a fierce protection. He leaned into you now, the hand at your neck tipping your head into his.

Pulling away, looking down at him as your hips bent, hands still set firm, sparks lit down your spine at the sight of his burning eyes.

_Hi_ , _Clyde_ , you mouthed, a smile punctuating the statement.

You hadn’t noticed, but in the chaos his jacket had slipped off your shoulders, another shiver washing over your skin, another one he noticed. Clyde took a deep breath, chewed his bottom lip, and finally stood. He made no effort to move your hands from his ears, lifting his right arm and encircling your back so he could rub warmth into your skin.

Clyde kept you pressed to his chest, fireworks fading to nothing before you took your hands from him and wrapped them around his waist. He was incredibly warm, and when you felt his chin rest atop the crown of your head it only deepened the heat he offered you. His own protection in light of what you’d given him.

“Thank you,” Clyde swallowed, a low hum of the same tune you’d sounded earlier. “Happy New Year, darlin’.”

Should you have stayed here forever, you knew you’d never need a jacket of any sort, not wrapped in the complete warmth he provided – flesh and soul.

“Happy New Year, Clyde.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, earlier today I got the idea that it would be fun to do a NYE series with all the ADCU men (well, all the ones with a place in my heart). And I started with Clyde because I love the man entirely and he deserves protection. But, I have plans for Flip and Phillip AT LEAST. So, let me know if I should continue.


	2. A Happy New Year - Flip Zimmerman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s moments to midnight and you want to ring in the new year with a kiss - above and below the belt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pure smut. No angst that I can see. I wanted to give Flip Zimmerman a hand job so I did. A little tongue on the side.

Flip had worked through the holidays, nothing but a twenty-minute call on Christmas morning to give any indication he was alive until he trudged into the living that thirtieth. He looked just as you had expected – deprived of sleep and completely wore out. He never knew when to stop. After these long shifts, scheduled or not, he would always be out for at least a day, if not two.

But it was minutes away from the new year. You didn’t want him to miss it, and you missed him. He did not enjoy being taken from sleep, but you knew he would need little convincing once he caught onto your plans.

He lay bundled up beneath green flannel sheets, a down comforter, and a Sherpa throw; the outline of his body was under it all, his hair a tousled curtain over his eyes. Flip’s lips were pouted, a low snore slipping past their slight part. He was unmoving, still in his sleep when you scrunched up onto his side, knees brushing against his stomach.

You smoothed his hair over his temple, noting it was ten minutes to midnight, and then pressed your lips to his. A simple kiss; light and slow, something only you were aware of. He did not stir, dead to the world beneath, ignorant to your touch. You tightened your hold on his hair, forced a little more pressure into your next kiss, and kept him there until he twitched into awareness.

Flip rolled onto his back, groaning awake with pinched eyes, grumbling nonsense to himself. You climbed on top of him, knees framing his hips, and cupped his face.

“Morning, beautiful,” you teased, humming into his ear.

Large hands warmed your back, sliding below the flannel you’d taken from him. Fond realization came from him in the form of a grunt, those wandering fingers finding only a bra beneath the red and black checkered article.

“It’s too dark to be morning,” he drawled, hand fishing for the blankets, “come to bed. I’ll wake up with you.”

“Mm, I have a better idea. I think you’ll like it.” You kissed the line of his jaw, sitting up from him.

“What would that be?” A long drag of air pushed past his lips, thumbs skimming the hems of your panties.

A smirk bit at your cheek, eyes finding the dwindling time. Cold fingers dipped below his thermal, the tensing of his abdominal muscles eliciting a prominent flutter between your legs. A stark gasp met his lungs, a small giggle lilting from your own at his surprise.

“I was thinking,” you purred, shifting so you sat between his knees, brushing the tips of your fingers along the faint trail of hair leading below his waistline, “we should start the new year off right.”

He watched you now, focus switching between your eyes and your hand, the skin beneath your touch growing hotter with each delicate graze. Flip hummed, hands meeting behind his head, legs shifting apart, eyes closing.

“Do your worst.”

A high-pitched sigh lit, amused by his challenge. “Oh, Zimmerman, be careful what you wish for.”

You wanted to see him grow hard in the confines of his pants, the thought of it drying your mouth out. Taking a hand, you smoothed over his thigh and found his clothed shaft. When you gripped around him, just enough to slide up and down, you caught Flip’s abdomen flex. He grew stiffer witch every slow pump, his length becoming more obvious by the second. You took your grip from him, a small moan forming at the sight of his cock moving of its own volition, slowly dragging upward with small jumps, blood filling him with each heightened beat of his heart.

His dick was thicker when you next grasped him, the strain in his pants evident when you let go again. A tent formed between his legs, his cock struggling toward freedom, a low groan breaking the silence of the room. Flip’s hips shifted, his lower abdominals flexing with each tug of your hand. You paid extra attention to the ridge of his tip, even clothed it drove him a little mad whenever you brushed a thumb over it.

The fabric in your clutch shifted, a button unhooking the flap, heated skin skimming your fingers and making you salivate. Flip thrusted into your hand, the friction you had given him now a need. The moon was centered in the skylight above, its presence focusing light on the new blush above his sternum. His breathing was heavier now, your hand sliding the fabric away and releasing his cock. It bobbed away from your touch, reaching toward Flip’s chest, a droplet of precum slipping down the frenulum in leisure.

Flip’s mouth had fallen open, panting into the night when you stopped to admire your handiwork. There was something intoxicating about his heartbeat pulsing his dick up and down; faint, gentle nudges, blood throbbing in his length, readying him for the release you were building.

Keeping his eyes, your head dipped down to him, lips pressing gently to his tip. That drop of slick melted into your lips, tongue laving over his slit and tasting more of it spill out, next leading the tip along the ridge of his head. A throaty groan pushed past his lips, pink with need, head arching into the pillows. In the absence of his attention you slipped a hand into the open flap, fingers cupping his balls, tightening around them and feeling Flip’s muscles reciprocate.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Flip drawled, shaft thrusting upward, the singular syllable a long drag from start to finish.

You hummed, pulling him past your lips, hollowed cheeks sucking tension around his cock. More slick spilled from him, the salty substance sliding down your throat. The tips of your fingers splayed into his happy trail, following its path, leading from the base of his shaft and brushing along the unsheathed portion of his cock. Flip thrust up again, your head bobbing to keep from gagging on him.

When you looked up at him, face flushed and hair smattered to his forehead, you licked along the heavy flesh atop your tongue, pursing your lips at his tip and letting spit dribble from your mouth to meet your hand gripped at his base. Another lusting groan filled the room, only growing in volume when you rolled your fingers around his balls and pulled. Flip’s thighs tensed, spit spraying in the night from the teeth that bit at his curses. His hands unhooked from his hair and grasped at the sheets, blood vacating his knuckles with the strain of his grip.

His cock was resting against your lips, hand working him with his now slick shaft, tightening and twisting with increasing speed. You saw it bloom in his face, witnessed his jaw falling slack, heard it in the desperation of his moan. His climax tensed his abdominals, filled his cock with blood and cum and power, forced his testicles into rigidity. Anticipation sparked in your spine, the head of his cock turning a dusky red, blood rushing so fast and so forcefully, Flip’s body thrusting into your grip.

Streams of white burst out of him, cum spilling with each throb of his cock; it coated your fingers, a measure collecting on your bottom lip, his taste familiar and welcome. Spend kept coming, the shaft in your hand bounding and rock-hard, groaned praises and curses alike muffling into the pillows.

The pace of your pumps slowed, his cock coming down from release. Flip opened his eyes, your fingers hooked into your mouth so you could swallow every bit of spend you had earned. He pulled you down to him, lips crushing into yours, hands thrusting into your hair.

The alarm clock clued you into the time, your smile pressing into his lips. “Happy New Year, Zimmerman.”

Flip swallowed a laugh and flipped your world upside down, his heat-heavy body on top of your own within the same second.

“It is,” his tone was low, all exhaustion gone. His mouth trailed along your jaw, hot air streaming just under your ear. “Let’s make yours just the same.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been wanting to write Flip for a while, and I had been feeling a little bit of pressure to do at least another part to the NYEADCU series. Currently in the thick of exam season and hope to start chapter 26 of Keeping Your Promise soon. This was just a bit of fun ;)


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